The ties that bind us
by and then again
Summary: Tristan goes home one last time to put everything in the past behind him. A certain brunette can't bear the idea of being forgotten.
1. One Car Ride Away from

Tristan Dugrey leaned back into the plush leather seat of his chauffeur driven car and closed his eyes. This being the last ride he planned on taking in his dad's car, he decided to enjoy it. Tristan was just resting because soon it would be show time. All the scenes he had been planning in his head all those nights at military school would finally be taking place.

Tristan noticed how he no longer felt uncomfortable at the thought of returning to his house, his room, his family. Probably because of what lay ahead for him. Tristan was only coming back to finish the job. To cut any remaining ties to him and the hellhole known as his childhood, and then he would be free.

He would go into his house, tell his dad that he was tired of being his trophy son that he could hide away at military school one day and then bring to company lunches to brag about the next. Tristan would tell his dad that he wouldn't be attending Harvard like he hoped. He would tell him that the only reason he applied to his father's alma mater is he knew how upset he'd be when Tristan decided not to go there.

Tristan was moving in an entirely different path. He had changed during military school. He had become smarter and harder and a bit colder. He had spent all those lonesome family visiting hours perfecting that detached air he had always had in the past. Tristan looked forward to seeing his father's face, after he finally realized he no longer held power over Tristan's life. It would be like seeing a King after abdication, an emperor with no throne.

_How the mighty will fall, _Tristan thought to himself.

And then of course there was the other matter of business. Something that was far much more significant than yelling at his father, because face it it's not hard to yell at someone you've hated your entire life. Cutting ties with his father didn't prove he was a new person, Tristan knew this. He also knew what other ties he had to cut. Ties that had sunk into him so deeply that sometimes it was like he didn't even know he still had. He had tried to write it off as an insane crush, an infatuation with what he couldn't have but every time he sat down at a piano bench, or smelled hot coffee, or even thought of Chilton he knew it was so much more.

It was the one thing that kept him connected to here. Here, the place he hated with his parents who had spent his entire life ignoring him and when they finally did notice him, their knee-jerk reaction was to send him away to military school.

No, it wasn't leaving his parents that made Tristan so nervous at all. It was something else. It was someone else. Someone lighter and sweeter than his cold-blooded mother and father. Someone who smelled like peaches, and had chocolate brown hair, and wonderful blue eyes. Eyes that were so much more innocent than his own blue eyes.

It was Rory Gilmore.

It was his Mary.

_Well not his Mary. She was never his_, Tristan checked himself.

And with that reminder the small smile that had appeared on Tristan's face resurfaced under a cool demeanor that he had been developing all his life.

This girl, the one who always made Tristan think of those porcelain dolls with the china faces, was the reason Tristan needed to come home. He needed to prove she wasn't so much to him anymore, that he had changed. He needed Rory Gilmore to be the game she always thought she was to him instead of the one he didn't fight hard enough for so that he could spend a free moment and not instantly think of her blue eyes and wish.


	2. Three Weeks

Thanks go to **Beautymarked**, **Thought'sPen**, and **Smile1** for reviewing. You three gave me some of those warm 'n fuzzy feelings.

Oh and I'm completely new at this so I guess I forgot a disclaimer on this first one of these: I own nothing but these words, although not the characters who abide in them. Well you get the point.

Tristan entered his house with a confident stride.

A confident, military stride with shoulders straight and chin up.

_Left, Right, Left, Right. It's about time I left you, all right. _

Tristan grimaced at his own corniness. But still, it was about time to put this all behind him.

Which is exactly what he would do as soon as he found his parents and looked into their eyes.

_Where were his parents on that note? _

Tristan had been gone for several months but that still wasn't a long enough time for his parents to change their routine on him. His father should be in his study, scowling down at the paper and ignoring his mother and himself. His mother was a little more unpredictable, sometimes in the garden; sometimes in her bedroom; at those endless charity events but always nursing a drink in a free hand.

Tristan was to busy scowling over memories that were springing to mind, to notice he was about to collide with a rather short woman in uniform.

"oh, excuse me," He said absent-mindedly before stepping aside.

"My fault, sir," She answered automatically before looking up at him and with a glint of recognition in her eye she said, "Ooh you must be the younger Mr. Dugrey, I recognize you from the picture in the hall."

"Tristan yes, Mr. Dugrey no thank you. Do you happen to know where I might find my parents?" Tristan answered politely.

The woman's brow wrinkled confusedly.

"Surely they told you, your parents, they went on a trip to the South of France for the month of October. They left a week ago."

Tristan tried to wipe the look of surprise out of his eyes and steeled himself for the pity he knew would come next from this woman who hardly knew him.

But as if she had read his thoughts, she shrugged her shoulders as if it was not uncommon for parents to take month long vacations without at least mentioning it to their child and said, "If you only knew some of the things my parents have forgotten to tell me in the past. There was one particularly ugly incident where they moved and when I got home from school there wasn't a person in the house."

Tristan responded to the woman's jovial tone and merry eyes with a smile but he knew that story wasn't true. Children of people who forgot important things like that didn't turn out that friendly, he should know.

"My name is Gabriella and I work for your parents and I am their house-sitter while they are gone. It's very nice to meet you Tristan, I've heard a lot about you from your parents."

_Another lie, _Tristan noted but found himself liking this woman more just for her efforts at trying to make him comfortable.

However it was said in such a light and natural manner that if Tristan had been a bit less suspecting, he might have believed it. That his parents actually did chat about him proudly, much less even mention him every now then.

But Tristan knew it wasn't true. As nice as this woman was, there was no way either of his parents would discuss their delinquent son with someone who worked for them or actually discuss anything with someone who worked for them for that matter.

"I was just about to make tea. Would you like some?" Gabriella asked just as the phone rang.

"Sure, I'll go start the water for it and you can answer the phone," Tristan said, not ready to talk to anyone who might recognize his voice.

Tristan filled the kettle and just as he set it down he could hear Gabriella's distressed voice in the other room. When he left the kitchen to make sure everything was alright, he found the older women sitting on their burgundy sofa wiping her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Tristan asked hoping he wasn't intruding.

"My father fell down a flight of stairs in his apartment. I knew I shouldn't let him live there all by himself. It's just that he's so stubborn about moving down here with me and I have work here and now he' s in the hospital. Oh Dios, that stubborn old man," Gabriella said in a rushed voice.

Tristan knew what it was like to be so frustrated with your parents, except he understood Gabriella's frustration came from deep caring that was evident in the tears that were filling her eyes.

"You should go and see…" Tristan trailed off as he saw her shaking her head.

"I have work."

"You have to sit and be at my house and watch my mother's plants grow," Tristan said trying to keep his tone light.

Gabriella looked at him like he was a child and said in a kind voice, "That's my work. And your mother would be furious if I left her house when I said I would watch it. And then she would fire me and I wouldn't work here at all. You might not like it here young man but I need the job."

Tristan shifted under her gaze, uncomfortable with how much she had already seemed to guess about him.

There was a pause and Gabriella tried to lighten the mood and said, "Think your mother would notice if I left and then just bought her all new plants before they get back home?"

Tristan responded with a silent grin. Of course his mother would notice, she noticed everything inconsequential and she would fire Gabriella over it.

Tristan hardly knew her and yet he felt a deep impulse to help Gabriella. Maybe it was because of the way she hadn't seemed to feel bad for him once this entire time, or perhaps how she had tried to make him feel at home in his home something that had never really been accomplished. Maybe it was because he was a little in love with the idea of this functioning relationship between father and child.

Tristan took and deep breathe and said, "Go to your father. My parents don't need a house-sitter." He shook his head and continued even though she was already starting to argue, "They don't need a house-sitter because I am home and it is my house and I plan on staying until they get back. My parents have never assigned me a babysitter before and I don't plan on having on now," he finished in a joking tone.

Gabriella looked uncertain.

"Are you sure it's no trouble?"

Tristan gave her a smile, the one that always fooled everyone, and said, "of course it's no trouble. I mean why else would I come all the way home if I hadn't planned on staying for awhile?"

Soon after he had called a cab for her and wished the best for her father, Tristan was alone in his house. Mansion. Whatever.

He took a deep breathe.

He felt good about helping Gabrielle.

However he wished she hadn't looked into his eyes as she was getting into the cab and said, "Promise me if you decide to leave you'll call me and I will come back to the house. This is important."

Tristan had promised because he wasn't going to let her not go to her father.

And he knew he would stay at his house, in his town, for the next three or so weeks because he wasn't going to have Gabriella's job in jeopardy.

The only thing Tristan didn't know was how he was going to survive the next three weeks.


	3. Talk to me

Tristan glanced at his cell phone and then back at the TV for the fifth time since he had sat down on the couch. Staying entertained was harder than he had imagined it would be.

He let out an exasperated breathe. Tristan Dugrey had never been one for waiting.

He scrolled through his phonebook and clicked the green talk button on his phone.

"Hello," the voice that answered the phone was sharp and impatient.

Tristan was delighted to hear that it hadn't changed since high school and instantly and unconsciously fell back into that timeframe.

"what are you wearing right now?" he asked without bothering to disguise his voice.

"what?"

"c'mon you heard me. Tell me what you are wearing. It's pretty early in the morning so maybe you just got out of bed. Your hair is nice and messy and maybe you even like to sleep in the-

"excuse me pervert, but believe it or not I am a functioning member of society and have better things to do then validate your pathetic and useless existence in life by subjecting myself to the sick and depraved thoughts of a pathetic low life like yourself."

Tristan laughed soundlessly, this was the first time he had been so amused in three long days.

He managed to catch his breathe before Paris hung up the phone.

"You know I was very impressed with that speech but then you used pathetic twice. What couldn't think of any other adjectives Paris?"

"who the hell is this?" she asked angrily, not recognizing his voice.

"the love of your life."

Paris snorted in the most unladylike fashion.

"Alright, perhaps not the love your life but certainly the most attractive bit of man flesh you ever saw."

"Tristan Dugrey." Paris said suspiciously.

Tristan laughed out loud this time.

"I never knew you would be so open about admitting it Paris. I'm flattered truly."

"No, there was just no one else who would describe themselves in such a egotistic self-loving manner."

Strange, Tristan had been called egotistic many a time in his young life and it never really seemed to stick with him.

He smirked into the phone and replied, "what can I say, if you've got it then flaunt it."

"and if you don't have it, make perverse anonymous calls to girls?" Paris retorted quickly.

Tristan smiled deeply. He had missed this verbal sparring. He had missed Paris of all people. He hadn't realized that he had missed anyone.

"Touché, Paris," He said warmly.

There was a slight pause and then Paris, never one to waste time, cut to the chase.

"Why are you calling?"

"I'm in town Paris. Thought I should take the time to see old friends."

"And what, they were all gone too?" Paris said skeptically.

Tristan made a hollow sounding laugh.

If Paris was one thing, she was blunt.

"C'mon Gellar, you telling me we weren't friends?"

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying."

Tristan shifted on the couch. He should have known Paris would be harder to win over than anyone else. Well not anyone else, Tristan could think of someone else that might put up even more of a fight.

"Well can we be friends now?" He asked, his tone sincere.

"Have you changed at all from the frat boy you were at Chilton?" Paris questioned warily.

Tristan bit back a remark about how Paris hadn't really seemed to mind back at Chilton.

"I don't know Gellar," this time when Tristan said his nickname for her it was soft and affectionate something he knew the ever observant Paris would pick up on, "but can I see you anyway?"


	4. The coldest hello

Tristan navigated the Yale campus easily, blending into the crowds of students and yet still managing to stand out to those the female variety with his striking good looks and natural ease.

_Funny that Paris had ended up here, _Tristan thought, _I had thought she was set on Harvard._

Tristan shifted his bag from one hand to another as he tried to remember what building Paris had said she lived in.

He hadn't expected her to suggest that he stay in her dorm room for a few days when he joked about being all by his lonesome in his big ol' mansion. He knew Paris out of anyone would sympathize and understand the feeling of not being home at your home, but it still was an uncharacteristic stroke of generosity.

_People change, _He reminded himself.

_I changed, _Tristan thought while he examined the current happenings.

He was staying in his hometown by his own choice so he could help someone else. He was about to see an old friend from high school and he was looking forward to it, not to mention that this friend was a girl and he wasn't even thinking of it as an opportunity he could take advantage of. Tristan was finally learning to stay out of those emotional webs that ended up causing so much trouble.

He knocked on the door and hoped that it was the right one, regretting not writing down anything Paris had told him on the phone.

"Hello?" a guy his age answered the door.

Tristan was about to ask whether Paris Gellar lived here when he heard a somewhat familiar voice call, "Marty who is it?"

Tristan tilted his head trying to see who had just called out. It wasn't Paris' unmistakable voice but it was someone's voice he swore he had heard before. It was incredibly familiar, and yet Tristan couldn't place it. He shrugged and returned his attention to Marty in the doorway who was looking at him curiously.

"I think I've got the wrong room-

"Tristan."

_Oh_, Tristan thought. That's whose voice it was.

Tristan had planned on seeing Rory Gilmore on his return home but somewhere in settling into the house again, he had begun to lose his resolve. He had decided that it was more of an issue of the past that should be forgotten rather than provoked.

Whatever the case, he had never planned on seeing her unprepared.

And yet there she was standing in front of him, staring at him; in fact Rory seemed and looked as shocked to see him as Tristan felt about seeing her.

Tristan quickly pulled himself together. He remembered why he had wanted to see Rory in the first place, to prove that he was finally over her.

"…Rory Gilmore," Tristan acted like he had just been able to place her and remember her name. He felt a small feeling of pleasure at the way her brow furrowed when he appeared to forgotten her.

"what are you doing here Tristan?" she asked, her tone guarded and most definitely not friendly.

Tristan smiled. If there was something he was good at, it was playing with emotions and carrying of an act.

"Well I was in town and decided to see old friends. Naturally I thought of Paris…" Tristan trailed of and suppressed a smile at the confusion that was clouding Rory's face.

"So I called her and said I wanted to see her and she invited me to come up for a visit," Tristan continued his explanation in a laboriously slow manner as if it wasn't odd at all seeing her there, "funny she didn't mention you were visiting too."

Rory's eyes narrowed and he could the hurt that had developed at his lukewarm reaction to her.

"I am not visiting Paris. I live here and go to school here and this is my room also, as well as Paris' as you know," Rory rambled a bit.

Tristan leaned against the doorway in his trademark stance. This was all getting very interesting.

"Oh it's funny that you two are roommates. I mean I didn't think you were very close at Chilton," Tristan said knowing that Rory knew that he was the reason Paris had despised her for a good bit of high school.

Rory clenched her teeth and said evenly, "well it's funny that you are here. I didn't think you and Paris were very close at Chilton either."

Tristan couldn't have felt more glee at that moment. It was obvious his cavalier attitude was effecting Rory and yet he didn't feel the least bit obliged to stop. He didn't feel the least bit attached to her. After all that time of thinking about her, she was finally in front of him and he was controlling himself.

Marty cleared his throat, breaking the tense pause that had seem to settle in the room.

Rory shifted from where she had been glaring at the floor and focused on Marty as if she was seeing him for the first time since Tristan had gotten here.

"Marty, we should definitely go for our thing. God so sorry to keep you just waiting here," she said with enthusiasm that Tristan sensed was being upped for his entertainment.

Marty shrugged, also trying to make sense of Rory's new demeanor.

"It's no problem, I mean you were just going to look at that paper for lit. class … it can wait," he said affably.

"No Marty, it can't. Because it is extremely important to me, that paper of yours. Although I'm sure it's wonderful because you really are a wonderful writer Marty. Have I told you that lately?" Rory said this all very quickly with widened eyes.

Tristan tried to suppress a smirk.

Marty seemed a bit confused and responded slowly, "thanks Rory."

"Anytime," she grinned warmly at him and then took his hand to lead out of the room.

"Tristan, I'm sure Paris will be back any minute and you can just wait. Or do whatever you want. Marty and I have to leave," Rory said coldly.

Tristan nodded indifferently at her statement and didn't bother responding.

Rory began to march to the door dragging poor Marty in tow. When she got to the door and had to go past Tristan, he couldn't resist catching her eyes for a second.

He could see she was hurt and a little confused at his reaction to her.

And also angry?

Tristan broke the eye contact and told himself, _he did not owe Rory Gilmore anything_.

They left and Tristan let out a breathe he didn't know he had been holding.

He sat down on one of the armchairs in their common room and instantly began analyzing what had just happened.

She had been surprised to see him. Unhappy about it, perhaps, but maybe not.

She had been hurt when he didn't act happy to see her. That was certain.

She had put on that little show for him with Marty who didn't really seem like a boyfriend type.

_So perhaps he wasn't the only one left with emotional ties to their time at Chilton. _

Tristan sank down further into the chair and thought some more about Rory.

He kept seeing her hurt expression when she left the room, and turning the notion that he, Tristan Dugrey, had the ability to hurt Rory around in his heard. The idea that he could have an effect on her after all this time, was something Tristan could not get past.

Tristan had never taken well to being ignored as a child, and as his good looks developed it assured him that he wouldn't be ignored often as a teenager.

_Rory Gilmore had always managed to ignore him though_, Tristan recalled bitterly.

She made him feel so unimportant and inconsequential that it drove him crazy.

Fragments of memories flooded Tristan's mind.

_Rory glaring at him at her locker._

_Rory leaning in and letting him kiss her at Madeline's party._

_Those three words she had said to Dean, about him during the whole concert disaster._

_Everyone says it's 'I love you' that means the most, _Tristan mused, _but anyone can fake an I love you. _Hell, Tristan had faked every 'I love you' he had ever said.

_I hate him, _now those were the words that had crushed Tristan

Tristan took a moment to dwell in his hollow victory, this feeling of satisfaction, for it had seemed that tables had finally turned.


	5. The nature of a crush

Thanks to all those who reviewed. I really do appreciate it and I promise to start speeding up the updates because I am well aware I have been a lazy bum about it.

Rory felt the cool air settle against her flushed cheeks as she marched forcefully into the courtyard.

Marty, whose hand she had already dropped, signaled for her to stop.

"Rory, what was that all about?"

Rory looked at him, the very picture of wide-eyed denial.

"What was what all about Marty?"

The look he gave was dripping with annoyed vibes.

"that guy and you."

"oh nothing. He went to my high school, that's all."

Marty looked skeptical.

"Rory that couldn't have been all. I mean he must have been someone to get you acting all…"

"Marty. I was not acting a certain way. I do not care about Tristan in the slightest and he obviously doesn't not care about me. And I'm not even talking about _caring caring. _I'm saying like the type of common courtesy caring. You know when someone's sneezed, you say bless you and if someone in your math class is crying and you don't even know them but you still ask if they are alright. That kind of caring. I don't even care about Tristan that way, no sir. So if he sneezes, no bless you's from me."

"oh yeah. It's pretty obvious you don't care about him at all. Nothing is going on there."

"Marty, I don't know why you always feel the need to make such a big deal about things."

"Rory, I don't know why you always have to ignore everything, even when its' right in front of your face. You just have this naïve attitude and you don't notice anything and even if you do, you deny it. You can't even converse with me about what that was all about because you are too busy ignoring how weird that was in there!" And with that Marty threw up his hands, as if he had finally had enough, and started walking in the other direction.

Rory paused and sat down on one of Yale's historical benches.

She didn't even know what Marty was going on about.

_Oh Rory, you know what that was about._

_That was about a boy. A boy with eyes that can change colors from a mottled light blue to a navy colored. That was about a boy with blue eyes and blond hair, the color of wheat. That was about a boy with a smirk that used to stretch across his face in such a delightful way that it made everyone who saw it want to kiss it away. Only you told yourself, you'd rather slap it off. That was about a boy who had tormented you and chased you and kissed you on a piano bench. A boy who would never leave you alone. A boy who made you feel incredibly good and so annoyed all at the same time._

_That was about a boy who forgot who you were. A boy who had acted like he couldn't get you off his mind the entire school year, and just like that, he forgot who you were. He didn't recognize your face, he didn't smile when he saw you, and he didn't even tease you. _

_That was about a boy you hadn't forgot. You weren't even sure you liked him and you had remembered him more than once. Things even reminded you of him. That was about a boy who when you saw him there, leaning in your doorway, made you really happy. And before you could smile, he had looked at you in the blankest way possible, without a trace of recognition. _

As Paris was getting out her keys to open the door, she heard an hissing noise coming from somewhere. She squinted her eyes in the dark.

"PARIS," and Rory emerged with a final hiss, only to grab her arm and drag her several feet away.

"Jesus Rory, no need for the brute squad or anything."

"Paris, how could you not tell me?"

"tell you what?"

Rory's eyes flashed. "You know what, Paris"

"Oh my, so this is how we are going to do this. Rory I've had like the longest day and I would love to stand out here in the freezing cold while you refuse to get to your point, but if we could move this along that would be great."

"Tristan is here, Paris, why is Tristan here?"

"He called. He was in town and wanted to see people."

"People? Paris, he wanted to see you"

"Alright, he wanted to see me. What's the problem?"

Rory crossed her arms, her disbelief growing at how dense Paris was being.

"you didn't think of running it by me before you invited him up here?"

"you weren't in the room. You were out."

"So?"

Paris made a face like Rory was the slowest person she had ever spoken to.

"You were not in the room. I didn't know when you would be back. So I invited him. Besides what's the big deal?"

"Well just that according to roommate etiquette we should okay our visitors before you know we have them."

"oh really? Have we always constituted that policy? Because I seem to remember you touting around the sixteen year old who was all hopped up on red bull and _how much she loved sleeping with the TV on_. You know who doesn't like sleeping with the TV on Rory? me. But did I make I giant scene about her...no. Not to mention **Marty**. I mean c'mon Rory the guy is over here constantly. Do I ask you to check with me before hand?"

Rory squirmed at how unreasonable Paris was being.

"You know very well, Anna and Marty are completely different from Tristan."

"Why?" and then light dawned in Paris' eyes.

"Rory, the boy had a crush on you. _A crush_. Crushes by their very nature fade so I'm sure he doesn't still like you and I'm positive he won't be bothering you like he did at Chilton," here Paris' voice got softer and more understanding, "it won't be awkward and you won't have to field him hitting on you every second. I bet he's totally and completely over you, so don't worry about that."

With that Paris turned and motioned her head for them to both walk inside.

"Thanks Paris," Rory said softly. _For pointing out the obvious. _

**Authors note**:

I know this is going slowly but I promise it will get our two favorite munchkins to at least a semi-mushy state eventually.

Reviews will inspire me to actually forge on with this thing so you know what to do…


	6. I woke him up

"Hello?"

"Oh good," Rory whispered from under her covers, "you are still awake."

"Sure baby, I'm awake," Lorelai answered distractedly.

"Cause I was worried I might be waking you up, you know it is pretty late and you have to get up for work tomorrow…" Rory rambled.

"Ror, I'm up. What's up?" Lorelai cut to the chase.

"Nothing I just felt like talking. I couldn't sleep at all and you wouldn't believe who is…" Rory trailed off as she started to hear background noises of Lorelai whispering.

"Mom! Who are you talking to?"

"Oh well if you really want to know," Lorelai began with a mischievously naughty tone to her voice, "Luke and I worked up an appetite so I was hoping I could get him to scurry off and cook something for us. But you know Luke he's a very resistant scurrier. Although it does seem like he owes me it, considering tonight's events…"

Lorelai was quickly shushed by both her daughter and Luke.

As happy as Rory was for her mother, she certainly wasn't ready to have all that post-coital bliss spill out at her.

"call you later." And with that she was back in her dark room with no form of entertainment besides Paris who had taken to having intense philosophical discussions in her sleep.

Rory crept outside her bedroom and made her way to the small mini-fridge for a snack.

Peaking over the back of the couch, she could make out the outlines of Tristan's head.

Holding her breathe, she gave into an untraceable urge and slightly brushed her hand over the tips of his hair. She tried to ignore the warm feelings she got from the tickling of his hair against her palm.

"Rory are you stroking me?" Came Tristan's bewildered voice, crashing through the silence of the room.

Rory visibly paled and answered in a wavering voice, "nooo."

She turned immediately and starting back to her room, hoping he would drop it.

"then what were you doing?" Tristan said quietly this time, his voice rich with amusement.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Rory answered crossly, dodging the question.

"Why aren't you?"

"I asked first." Rory felt herself relaxing as they fell back into their old bantering pattern.

"I can't sleep. Why don't you come over here and tell me a bedtime story?" Tristan said jokingly.

Rory snorted at this and yet she drifted over the couch at the same time.

Rory sank down on the carpet and curled her legs to her chest, trying to conserve heat.

Tristan glanced down at her from where he was sprawled on the couch. She looked like a doll with her big tee-shirt and tiny frame.

Rory shivered unconsciously and Tristan felt the his gentleman traits kicking in.

He shifted himself so that his lanky frame wasn't stretching over the entire couch.

"Why don't you come up here? We've got warmth and everything."

Rory instinctively looked at him warily.

Tristan chuckled, sensing her reaction.

"Seriously, you look cold. It's no big deal" he said in a concerned way that was almost brotherly.

Rory responded to his tone and uncurled herself from her cramped position.

As she stood up, he could see where her boxers ended and met with long legs, that were almost glowing in the dark room. Part of Tristan wondered if all her skin was that perfect apple-white porcelain tone before he crushed it, reminding himself of all those brotherly thoughts he had just been considering.

Rory sat on the couch, at first rigidly as if trying to make sure none of her was even close to touching some of him , but soon she relaxed and allowed herself to sink into the folds of the couch and even began edging closer to Tristan who seemed to be the source of heat.

They sat there for a few moments and then Rory who had found herself drawing closer and closer to this boy-warmth next to her, breathed deeply-enjoying the smell of Tristan who of course smelled just like a boy should.

This of course didn't go unnoticed. Tristan turned his head to her, his eyes holding back laughter, and asked "did you just sniff me?"

Rory flushed and chuckled a little, and then said as if to explain, "you smell like Dean."

After that final word sank in between the two of them, her eyes immediately changed from a heavy-lidded and sleepy to a wide-eyed blue deer-in-the-headlights look.

Tristan tensed and felt all the ease he had felt slipping away from him. He may have long-ago removed himself from the battle but that didn't mean he had lost all the wounds; and this girl really knew how to find them.

Tristan had never been good with not winning, and he could feel all sorts of feelings whirling around in his mind as he remembered every time Rory had picked Dean over him.

Rory looked at him quietly, realizing the careless effect of her words a bit too late.

"I'm sorry, Tristan," She said quietly wanting to go back to the friendly mood of before.

Tristan turned to her with an all too familiar look in his eyes, one that harkened back to days before anything friendly between them; when things were tense and torturous and thrilling.

He leaned closer, too close actually, much too close for friends.

"What do you have to be sorry for _Mary_?" He said, his eyes daring her to do something.

Rory felt the blood pound to her face as soon as he said that. Mary. So he did remember.

Unable to take anymore of Tristan's powerful blue stare, she scrambled off the couch and back into her room and then shut the door loud enough so she could hear the thud and finally breathe again because she knew he wasn't still looking at her with those eyes.

At the noise, Paris startled in bed and looked at her with accusing eyes.

"what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on Paris," Rory said feeling slightly ill, "I awoke Tristan."

"Well, he'll go back to sleep," and with that Paris sank back into her dreams.

_No. I don't think he will go back. He's him again and I made it happen. _

Rory felt her knees start to give out and she made a move for her bed.


	7. Little Mays everywhere

Tristan looked down at his cup of tea which had long ago turned cold. He had spent all morning holed up in this little café pondering Rory Gilmore.

Life was like chess, a game Tristan had used to play with his Grandfather before he found more exciting things to do with his time.

It was Tristan's move.

He couldn't decide whether it was worth risking the King to capture the Queen.

And this particular queen seemed to be made of ice-white marble just like her smaller counterpart on Tristan's game of chess vs. life.

Rory had ignored him all day yesterday.

This was more than being ignored. It was a snub tinged with winter cold. Tristan doubted a very large generator would be able to melt the cold look he saw in Rory's eyes whenever he mustered the courage to look into them. Which he hadn't often because he found it futile.

This type of attitude, well to be frank, it brought out Tristan's feisty side.

Which is why he had holed himself up into this café all morning. To ensure he didn't do something stupid, something impulsive, …something Tristan.

The thing was Tristan had basically already come to his conclusion.

He wasn't really willing to risk himself for Rory Gilmore.

He had thought about it all morning.

He had examined every inch of her.

He had seen prettier girls than Rory, hell Tristan had spent summers frolicking with super models in Italy.

And surely, their general receptiveness to all things Tristan made up for the fact that none had yet to surpass her ability to banter. Or to hold his attention for this long.

There was still one thing that bothered him though.

Tristan couldn't wait to go back to the dorm room and see her.

"Paris, can we talk?"

"What's up?"

"I was just wondering…has Tristan mentioned when he might be leaving?"

"No, why? Is there a problem?"

Rory fidgeted. A problem? Yes.

"well I was just wondering. It doesn't so much matter…"

Paris peered at her suspiciously.

"Oh god. Rory, you like him."

A look of shock crossed Rory's face.

"Paris! I do not like Tristan. If anything, I really dislike Tristan, which is why I was trying to as politely as possible ask when he might leave."

Paris lifted an eyebrow in the most skeptical manner. She hadn't been raised a fool.

"You know, Rory perhaps you should speak to my life coach about denial. It's not healthy."

Rory started to tinge pink. How could she explain to Paris just how much she didn't like Tristan Dugrey. She didn't just dislike him…she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. She couldn't even ignore him. He would breathe and she could feel it and she would become so aware of his every movement and expression and the way he would never once throw a glance at her, that it drove her crazy. She didn't just dislike Tristan, she …liked him. A lot.

"Oh god," Rory said before burrowing her head into her hands.

Paris smirked victoriously, reminiscent to a kid after they win a game of Trivial Pursuit.

So confident that they know everything.

"Rory, are you going to come out of there?"

"I'm never coming out," Rory moaned despairingly.

Paris sighed. "Then I'm leaving, I have other things to do."

Contrary to her last statement, Rory's head shot up and she cried, "Paris, you can not leave me now."

Paris shook her head, "and stick around to sit and watch you deny any feelings for him? I would but I actually made a vow to not repeat high school over again."

And with that Rory was left with no sympathy at all.

She sniffled to herself, piteously bemoaning her state and ready to take her case to the woman who taught her that sad little sniffle.

"Mommy?"

"What's up babe?" Lorelai fired back quickly.

There was a pause where Rory paused to decide how exactly to explain this to Lorelai.

All that came out was an equally pathetic, "Mommy."

"Rory honey, I'm here. But you must talk, you know use all those pretty words that you are learning at Yale."

Rory sat quietly, dwelling in her misfortune. She could sense her mother's impatience.

"I like a boy."

"Oooh. Rory and boy sitting in a tree-

"He doesn't like me at all. He ignores me and I just don't know how to deal with this."

Lorelai chuckled to herself.

"Of course you don't, munchkin."

Rory frowned into the phone.

"What do you mean of course I don't?"

"Well this is new to you, that's all."

"Hey I'm not a complete novice, you know. I have had my share of relationships."

"Well yeah, you are practically the queen of steady relationships. But this is different. This is a crush."

"I had crushes on Dean and Jess."

"Babe, you barely even let those sit for a day before suddenly springing into a relaaaaaaationship," Lorelai stretched the word to emphasize her distaste.

Rory was beginning to feel defensive.

"What's so wrong with relationships? You are in one right now, missy"

"Yeah but Luke and I put in the time. We did our little dance for ages and then finally became involved."

"So I skip that usually. I still have experience."

"Ah! But you don't little may," Lorelai cried.

"Little May?," Rory asked crossly.

"You know, the little girl who always thinks she knows everything and has to listen to the words of her older and more experienced townsfolk to learn new lessons. It's a reference. Jeez, and I thought Yale was supposed to be worth its money."  
"I know it's a reference. But what are you referencing exactly?"

"Little May," Lorelai deadpanned.

"And where did Little May come from exactly?" Rory asked accusingly.

"Well if you really want to know, you dirty girl you, Little May's mother was umm Big Henry's wife. Now you would think that would mean Big Henry was the daddy but you see Little May bore a curious resemblance to the next door neighbor, er Kirk."

"Kirk? Our Kirk?" Rory said shrilly.

Lorelai answered hesitantly, "No a different Kirk. Duh, I mean do you really think Big Henry's wife would mess around with our Kirk?"

"Aha!," Rory said in victory, "you were so making that all up. Little May doesn't exist, and neither does Big Henry and then you ran out of names right before you saw Kirk and used his name for the philandering neighbor."

"So?"

"So, you can't reference an imaginary character."

"I can reference Bugs Bunny and you don't get mad. Hey! That's unjust. You're cartoon bigot! I'm going to go call the Imaginary Character Lawyer Association from you and get them to strip you of your right to watch cartoons."

"You made up Little May and therefore she's invalid!"

"Ohh, now you've done it girly. Calling her invalid- that's just insulting and degrading to little girls who look up to Little May everywhere. What's next? Are you just going to declare Santa 'invalid'?"

There was a pause where Rory became thoroughly exasperated.

"I don't know what to do about the boy."

Lorelai sighed and said, "I know baby. You've been lucky and haven't had to chase any boys yet. So let me ask, is he worth the effort?"

Rory hated herself for what she knew was the answer.

"Yes."


	8. Visualization

Rory Gilmore had always come off shy to everyone. The background sort of a girl. She sometimes agreed with this clear cut picture of herself. Other times, when she was more cynical and honest, she saw that she wasn't shy. She was stubborn. Stubborn like her mother except Rory had always masked her stubbornness behind subtly, sometimes mistaken for timidity.

Sometimes it was easier to think she was shy. To explain to her mother why she chose to eat lunch alone.

"Well, I'm a little shy…" she could say and trail off without further interrogation. And oh, Lorelai Gilmore was the grand master of interrogation. To try and explain, to convey her deep feelings on the matter, that she ate lunch by herself not because she was shy, that she didn't mingle at gatherings and packed her own books to read at the few parties she attended because she genuinely enjoyed all of those things, was to own up to quite a bit of oddness. People couldn't understand that Rory didn't do things not because she was shy, but because she simply liked it better her way.

So the reason Rory had been standing outside her room's door for over 30 minutes, dreading walking in, dreading seeing Tristan was not because she was shy. It was because she would have liked so much better to not like Tristan or if he appeared to like her. But Rory was a bit too stubborn to admit that as of now, so here she was. Waiting outside her room, hoping all these fluttery feelings would just dissipate.

It was as if fate had decided it was sick of waiting outside in January's bitter cold, for just that moment Tristan Dugrey swung open the room's door.

"Rory?" he quirked his brow, "Why are you standing outside in the cold?"

Rory was to distracted to answer for she was stubbornly running over the scientific method in her head. Problem: Tristan Dugrey had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Hypothesis: **If** Tristan comes to the door and doesn't notice the fact that I might possibly potentially be completely infatuated with him **then **I will go crazy.

Tristan cleared his throat, jarring her from her thought process.

"Ohh." She said as she scuttled by him, into the room.

"_Ohh_?" He answered, slightly mocking her guttural tone.

Rory took a deep breathe and felt the room's warm air flood her face. She had stubbornly refused to enter the room when the numbing first set in and was now paying all the appropriate consequences.

Rory looked into Tristan's ice blue eyes and managed to spit out one word, "Cold."

Tristan chuckled at the sight of her. Chattering her teeth and circling her hands over an imaginary fire.

"beach…sun…beach"

"Rory what are you doing?"

Rory didn't crack an eye open to answer this. She said quickly, "Visualizing."

Tristan guffawed, "Why?"

Rory's blue eyes opened crossly.

"I am persuading my subconscious that I am in warmer weather which will then trick my body's temperature into rising."

"You really think that will work…I mean the way you are doing it?"

"Why do you mean the way I'm doing it?"

Tristan leaned against the wall knowingly.

"Well it seems like the key to this visualization thing is persuasion …I don't know what does it for your body temperature but I'm not sure you muttering words like, 'beach' is really going to trick your subconscious. I mean you look like you are voodooing someone, not experiencing a tropical island."

Rory sighed impatiently, "Well Tristan if you know so much you about this why don't you show us your god given persuasion skills.

Tristan smiled with delight. He had always been known for his persuasion skills.

Rory instantly regretted saying anything when she felt Tristan walk closer to her.

"..Wha..What you are doing?" She said edgily as he walked closer and closer.

"Sshh. Close your eyes. You have to visualize."

Rory felt his words hit her softly and the air tickled the back of her next. She prayed she wasn't bright red.

Tristan whispered softly in her ear, "You can feel the sound of waves crashing on the beach and you are running fine white sand through your fingers not to mention staring at my gorgeous half-naked body…" he finished jokingly.

Rory blanched as that image flooded her mind and willed herself to keep her eyes closed.

She felt rustling and the next thing she knew Tristan was pulling his sweatshirt over his arms, revealing a quick flash of a toned six pack, and putting it in her crossed arms.

Well of course she was peeking.

Rory smiled at him gratefully and put on the sweatshirt, which despite Tristan's lean frame, was still immensely big on her.

"Warm?" He asked and she breathed his smell coming off the sweatshirt.

_Indeed. _


End file.
